


Leather-Eater

by Condensedcream



Series: Mean Hotman [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Coercion, Dubious Consent, Fear-wetting, Humiliation, Live Dangerously Sora, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Scary-horny, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22773793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Condensedcream/pseuds/Condensedcream
Summary: Yozora voice: Look at my boner when we fight.
Relationships: Sora/Yozora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Mean Hotman [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637326
Comments: 31
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct follow-up to [Kojima voice: Mean Hotman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652281). You don't have to read it but if you like this you'd like that. Tags to be updated when the second chapter is posted.

Sora’s legs were jelly-weak when Yozora let him down, knees knocking together as they threatened to buckle. He tipped his head to the side as the kissing let up, taking in deep breaths as he sifted through sensations. The drool that ran down his chin dripped onto the collar of his top.

What was happening?

Fingers against his skin cleared his head faster than the fresh air.

They were cold to the touch, pressing at his belly as they slipped under his shirt. He hollowed his stomach at the bite of them, shifting to one side before the other to avoid contact. Yozora’s nails were a little too long to ignore.

“Watch it!” Sora yelped, slapping at Yozora’s hands when they began to lift his shirt. There was no contact, his fingers passing through a gridwork of red that was left where Yozora had been.

Sora pitched blindly to one side as he summoned his keyblade, hackles rising at the leftover glow. Cool, great. Awesome start to this befriending thing.

“There’s nothing there,” he called out. Yozora had long since cleaned him out of potions of any kind.

Quiet.

No rumble of distant motors or buzz of city life. 

Sora wavered as he counted the seconds, eyes scanning the area for any sign of a reappearance. A light flickered in the distance. He watched and waited until his breath slowed and deepened, made up for everything it had missed.

Alone again.

“I’m aware,” Yozora told him.

The closeness of his voice made Sora flinch, words warm against the shell of his ear. His sword was warmer as it connected with Sora’s side. For all the red, Sora’s pain was blinding white as his newly-caught breath left him.

He grasped at the site of the injury as he fell to his knees, throat tight as he forced what few words he could through it.

“Then– why? What were you doing?”

“You want potions, don’t you?” Yozora asked. His voice was far away now, beyond striking distance. 

Sora’s eyes looked everywhere but at Yozora. He wanted to lie, but he’d never been good at those. Now he was worse.

“I’ve seen you,” Yozora continued. “Do you know what you look like? Turning over trash cans and rooting around in dumpsters?”

Sora’s eyes widened at the mention of his searching. He was sure he’d been alone then.

“You look like a dog, Sora,”

Sora bristled.

“I’m trying, okay? It’s a lot better than, just–” Sora gestured in an abstract way with his free hand. He didn’t need to bring up stealing, not when the thief was right in front of him.

The corners of Yozora’s eyes crinkled as he nearly smiled. He almost looked proud.

“Keep it up, you’ll find some eventually.”

The framework was back, a shimmering grid that faded away before Yozora himself was blocking it out, inches away from Sora.

“I’ll give you one to start with,” he said.

He was still nearly smiling as he took a potion by the neck and smashed it across Sora’s face.

It shattered into a thousand slivered pieces, striking his face like a fresh bloom of stinging nettle. But the pain was no sooner registered than it was gone. Bitter, clean green hit his nostrils as the potion dripped down his face and onto his clothes. What made it into his mouth was medicinal and familiar. 

A token of the world he wanted to return to.

* * *

Sora got hungry, but he didn’t starve.

The urges were there, signals in the back of his mind to find food, sit, consume. He listened to them in the beginning, walking the streets until he found convenience stores that looked freshly stocked and newly opened. 

Their long racks were organized neatly, lined with shiny bags of chips and wrapped cookies, spongy cakes and cold drinks. He tore into them like Christmas presents, hands frantic to rip off their decorated wrappings to get what was inside.

They had no taste.

He tried everything once. The cookies were crisp and crumbly, the chips snapping nicely upon being bitten into. The frosting on cakes had the drag of fat in them. But nothing more registered. His body didn’t respond to them like food, leaving him empty and unsatisfied, their textures cloying in his mouth without flavor to compliment them.

Even the smells were gone.

It was worse than no food at all.

* * *

Dogs were great, Sora told himself as he faced down an alley lined with cans.

Friendly, dependable. Loveable.

He took the lid off the nearest can, black trash bags crammed inside.

Admirable traits, Sora thought. Nothing to be ashamed of being compared to. 

He took to pawing through one bag, then a second. He turned them inside out and felt along their insides, searching for anything he may have overlooked. Finding nothing, he moved to the next can, and the one after that.

There were potions here somewhere, he knew. Yozora had admitted as much. For all the ass-kickings and insults he doled out, lying didn’t appear to be in his repertoire.

Sora kicked around the alleys without regard for time, taking off his shoes to climb into dumpsters, face scrunching in disgust when he inevitably found mush squishing between his toes. It was a small mercy that the trash here was like the food. Unscented, and–from one short experiment–tasteless too.

But like food, texture remained.

It was at the mouth of one alley that Sora found what he was looking for. Squirreled away in a cardboard box was a potion, the streetlight overhead glinting off it. A beacon of hope.

Sora hurried over, snatching it up and holding it close.

It was a sickly overboiled peas shade of green. Sora slid it into one pocket before slipping away, hyper alert at the possibility of an unwelcome encounter. His side began to throb as he quickened his pace, his injury having barely healed from the few drops of the last potion Sora had managed to get in his mouth.

But he couldn’t drink this one right away.

Sora stowed away into the earliest safe place he could find as the aching in his side began to slow him, pain-sweat beading on his skin. He crouched in the darkest of shadows, uncorking the potion and bringing it close to his face for an excited sniff.

It smelled as it always had. Plants and magic and health all crammed into one place, the acerbic scent bringing back memories of poor decisions and hard-won battles alike.

He sniffed again.

Goosebumps sprang to his skin as he closed his eyes, revelling in the scent. It had turned his stomach many times before, but in a world where only the real had a scent–his skin, his sweat, his blood–he swooned to have a reminder of what existed beyond that.

“You really are a dog,” Yozora said.

Sora opened his eyes as he jammed the cork back into the potion. Yozora’s knee was uncomfortably close to his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sora asked, potion still in hand. No use hiding it now.

“Sitting there, panting away and salivating.”

“Stop acting like dogs are so bad,” Sora said.

He wondered how fast he could chug a potion without inhaling it.

Yozora looked down at him, expression impressively neutral. Sora couldn’t read what he was thinking.

“Up,” Yozora said.

“Up… where?” Sora asked.

“Up,” Yozora repeated.

He enunciated the word neatly, lips pressing together in the process. He made a single beckoning gesture with his hand.

Sora stood slowly, the apprehension that would usually drive him to listen muddling with irritation. Was Yozora really talking to him like this? Speaking to him like a dog needing to be commanded?

“Drop it,” Yozora said.

Yeah, he was.

Like any dog caught with what it shouldn’t have, Sora ran.

He took off in the direction of streets he knew to be narrow and twisted, maze-like in the number of turns they had, complete with dead ends. It wouldn’t be hard to lose Yozora in there.

Sora made this calculation without factoring in his state. One hundred yards in and his side was a flare of agony, each beat of his heart sending another pulse of pain through him. His teeth grit as he seethed through them, the pain-sweat back, clammier now.

He staggered through the streets without taking in where he was going, lurching around every corner he came to. He held his free hand to his side as sweat dripped into his eyes, pushing hard against the injury as if he could push it out of existence with the right amount of force.

Sora was the one to find himself at a dead end.

The wall before him was bricked high, too high for him to climb in his state. On either side were storefronts, still lit and insides empty. His vision blurred and lost focus as he took a step nearer to a door, the pain in his side too great for him to keep moving.

The world went sideways as he succumbed to his injury, skull rattling as it hit the pavement below. He curled in on himself defensively, his potion hugged to his chest.

Yozora whistled in the distance. Tuneless and without melody, it was a summons.

Sora didn’t move until Yozora came to do it for him.

“Didn’t you hear me calling for you?” he asked, kneeling next to Sora.

He rolled Sora onto his back, fishing the potion from his weakened grasp and setting it aside.

Sora kept his hold on his side, brows knit as each breath hurt. He’d been so busy trying to keep the potion he’d forgotten to drink it.

When Yozora lifted his shirt this time, he didn’t have the energy to stop him. His hand was brushed aside, belly and sides exposed. Yozora rested his palm on Sora’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his shallow breaths. His gloves were rougher than Sora had imagined them to be.

“Do you want your potion?” Yozora asked.

Sora swallowed and nodded.

“Then you’ll have to earn it.”

Sora let his head fall to the side as he looked up at Yozora, glancing from one eye to the other. Yozora’s gaze gave nothing away, placid to a degree of nearly being dreamy.

“How?” Sora asked. His own voice sounded farther away than Yozora’s.

Yozora’s answer was to stroke his hand over Sora’s impaired side. Even the lightest pressure made Sora jerk and groan, his mouth hanging open as he sucked in a steadying gasp of air.

His breath was cut off in a choked scream when Yozora jabbed the heel of his palm into the injury. Sora’s body convulsed from the pain, shocked upright for a second before Yozora’s other hand was on his shoulder, forcing him onto his back and holding him there as his side was mashed inwards.

A burst of energy flooded Sora’s body as his brain fought to get away. His limbs spasmed and convulsed, hands clawing at the ground beneath him as his heels pushed against the ground. But he remained held fast, unable to rise as Yozora sank more of his weight onto Sora’s side.

The apologies came first to Sora’s lips, broken sentences where his tongue snared itself as he tried to get the words ‘I’m sorry’ out of his mouth as many times as possible. He repeated it until the sound had become meaningless, a strangled howl of a mantra.

His words were fragmented by the time he began to beg, half-sounds and full bays as he pleaded for it to stop. He went on until he forgot how to make purposeful sounds at all, reduced to incoherent, jagged noises as he frothed at the mouth.

There were aftershocks when Yozora let up. They rocked through Sora in waves as Yozora smoothed his shirt back down, drawing out smaller noises from him.

“That’s enough for today,” Yozora said, rising to stand above Sora.

The words brought bliss, but the potion in his hand edged it with fear. Sora covered his face as he waited for impact.

When there was none, he peeked through barely-parted fingers, watching as Yozora uncorked the bottle and upturned it. The potion poured onto the pavement, puddling between them.

“Lap it up.”

Sora’s pride was weaker than his desperation, and he struggled to haul himself to his hands and knees. His eyes darted between Yozora and the puddle as he lowered his head, anticipating another attack.

None came.

The ground was rough against Sora’s tongue as he licked at it, gravel making its way into his mouth along with the potion as he drank what he could. With each small mouthful the pain ebbed. It went from all-consuming, to nearly-unbearable, to him nearly being able to think through it.

He licked until the puddle was gone, chasing down stray droplets as his vision regained clarity.

The last of it was splashed over the the front of Yozora’s boots, sickly green in contrast. Sora crawled closer, the leather-oil scent apparent when he was inches away. Another real smell, one that Sora stopped to delicately sniff at, taking in the heady, sharp qualities.

Sora flinched back when Yozora nudged the toe of his boot closer, wary as he spared Yozora another look.

There was a fondness to his face now. Not overt, but there. Self-satisfactory.

It made Sora angry to see. He’d done all he could to dilute the violence of their encounters, but this was what made Yozora happy?

Sora reared back onto his knees, grabbing onto Yozora’s shin before giving a hard yank as his anger drove him to bring Yozora to his level.

It was the first time Sora had seen Yozora fall. It was weirdly, entirely human. He hit the ground like anyone else, his breath leaving him in a wheeze and eyes going blank upon impact. He made a surprised sort of noise as Sora scrambled to straddle him, arm drawn back and hand curling into a ball as he readied his aim.

Sora’s fist froze as he shifted his weight on Yozora, sinking it into his hips. It brought them flush with Yozora’s.

He was hard.

Yozora’s cock pressed up against Sora’s crotch, heated and solid even through the fabric between them. He aligned nicely with the seam of Sora’s pussy. Sora twitched in a way he didn’t want to.

The moment of stunned hesitation was all Yozora needed to gather himself, his eyes clear now as he shoved Sora off.

Sora didn’t want to punch Yozora anymore. Or look him in the eye. Or be within three-hundred feet of him.

Existing in the same world was pushing it.

Sora used Yozora’s shove as a running start, clambering to his feet and taking off without looking back. Fear had made him fast before, but embarrassment made him faster now.

* * *

With his side no longer the epicenter of mind-frying pain, thinking came easier for Sora.

Overthinking did as well.

Sora holed himself up in one of the many high rise hotels he’d come across. His original plan had been simple; never sleep in the same place twice.

Then he found his Goldilocks bed.

He’d tucked himself into it presently, a chair propped under the knob as if it could actually stop entry from someone with too many weapons and a bone to pick.

Where did Yozora go to rest?

Sora had wondered that several times before. Yozora seemed to be in a perpetual state of tired that radiated off him, one that Sora found infectious. His voice never pitched or inflected with any emotion beyond resigned melancholy. 

What did he do in his downtime?

It wouldn’t surprise Sora to learn he passed the hours, days–weeks?–by coming up with inventive new Wile E. Coyote style traps.

But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he spent his time as Sora did, languishing in a world that lacked what could fulfill his senses.

Would Sora end up the same?

The worry kept him awake.

Yozora was the one thing that kept him getting up, moving, exploring. He was a tie to the real world that Sora needed to keep his hope going. A reminder that people still existed, that they had hot-blooded bodies like his, their own scents. They could be experienced.

* * *

There were new deadends in old places.

Sora had come this way too many times before to make such a basic mistake. He’d memorized the route, one right turn, one left turn. Stop short before the sandwich shop and squeeze down the narrow alley that led to a wider road.

Now there was no sandwich shop, no discreet escape.

There was a shuttered pharmacy and nothing more.

Sora turned to look at the way he’d come, the rest of the buildings aligning with his memory, bright and welcoming with their displays.

Yozora coming towards him was less so.

“Hey,” Sora said lightly, as if he hadn’t been about to make a break for it the second he heard footsteps that didn’t belong to him.

“Hey.”

Such a conversationalist.

“Fancy seeing you around here,” Sora tried again.

“Not really.”

“Well, okay,” Sora said, words petering off. Yozora was as tall as a brick wall and about as easy to talk to.

Sora looked Yozora over as he neared. Hands empty, relaxed. A good sign. Face? Answer unclear, ask again later.

“You ran off early last time,” Yozora said, coming to a stop in front of Sora.

He was several centimeters too close to be comfortable, but not so much as to warrant Sora stepping backwards. His jaw worked itself hard and his breath was spiced with cinnamon.

“Is that gum?” Sora asked.

Yozora gave him half a nod.

“Gum,” Sora repeated, struck by the scent. The back of his mouth watered at it. “Can I have some?”

“That’s what you have to say for yourself?” Yozora asked. He was the one that took a step back, his gun appearing in hand as he levelled it with Sora’s face.

Sora jolted back at the sight, arms held up as he bumped into the storefront behind him.

“Jeez, it was a question!” Sora said, eyes locked on the red glow of the weapon. “You don’t have to share with the rest of the class.”

“You ran off early last time,” Yozora said, harkening back to his previous statement.

Right. That was probably the issue here. Not gum.

“Things got weird,” Sora blurted.

“That’s what’s off in this situation to you?” Yozora asked.

“Of course not,” Sora said quickly. “This place is like some sort of freakish doll house. There’s no one here and all the food is completely useless and doesn’t taste like anything. Even the water is tasteless. Really tasteless, not like how people say it doesn’t have a taste but it _does_. And then there’s you-”

“There’s me,” Yozora agreed.

The tips of Sora’s ears went red as he lost his train of thought. He hadn’t meant to launch into a tirade.

“You’re here, I think. This place isn’t real, but both of us are,” Sora said, struggling to slow his words.

“What makes you so certain?”

Sora continued to stare at the gun. It was easier than looking at Yozora.

“I don’t know. You feel real?”

The high-pitched whine of Yozora’s weapon reading itself to shoot made Sora’s stomach twist up. He pushed his back harder against the storefront, wishing he could phase through it.

“You can touch me and you’re there,” he gushed, his hold on his words slipping. “Everything else here is so fake, there’s nothing to it. But you’re warm and your body- it reacts?”

Sora cringed to hear himself say it.

Yozora blew a small bubble with his gum, popped it, and closed one eye to aim. Sora’s legs hurt from his muscles seizing in fear.

“I like that you’re at least here with me, gives me someone else to talk to so I’m not stuck listening to a whole lot of nothing. I’d lose it if I only got to hear myself talk,” Sora said.

He was babbling now, anxiety was making him breathless. He needed several weak gasps before speaking again.

“But I don’t understand-”

“Then learn.”

Sora didn’t hear the shot, but he felt the aftermath.

It rang in his ears, a tinny shriek that was deafening above all sound. A delayed scream rose in his throat, but even that was noiseless. The vibration of it was there, the thrum of his vocal cords, then nothing. His eardrums pulsed louder than his heart, aching to the point of bringing tears to his eyes.

He came back to his body slowly, finding himself having fallen to his knees, limbs trembling and the glass of the storefront scattered around him. A ginger patting of his face revealed no injuries aside from his eardrums.

His mouth was wrenched open before he could check the rest of his body. Thumbs jammed their way into the sides of his lips, worked between his molars and cranked his jaw apart. His cries remained unheard to himself as Yozora’s tongue brushed over his once again, feeding something into his mouth.

Gum.

Yozora withdrew his fingers only to clamp a hand over Sora’s mouth, holding it there until Sora began to chew.

The cinnamon burned his mouth, the flavor too sudden and strong after the sense had been dormant so long. Sora kept chewing. He chewed it with feverish interest, rolling it in his mouth from side to side, poking and prodding at the texture of it.

Yozora grabbed him by the chin as he chewed, tilting his head up and watching with muted interest.

He spoke. Sora heard nothing.

Sora squinted, hoping Yozora would repeat himself.

He did, mouthing the word again, calmly, clearly, still holding Sora’s chin.

Swallow.

Sora swallowed.

Yozora dropped his hand away, his gaze lowering from Sora’s face.

Sora became instantly and keenly aware that Yozora was looking at his crotch.

It dawned on him that the area was a rapidly-cooling sort of hot, and worse than that, wet.

Sora moved to cover himself with his hands, but it was too late. Too little. The spot on the front of his pants had spread long before he noticed it.

Yozora’s face was forcibly neutral now. Somehow, disgust would have been better.

“I'm sorry,” Sora stammered, mortified. “I don't know what happened–”

Yozora’s hand curled at his side, sending Sora cowering like a kicked animal.

“I’m not usually like this– I don’t do this!” Sora insisted. He couldn’t tell if he was speaking or shouting.

Yozora’s nostrils flared. It looked like his nails were biting into the palm of his glove.

“I didn’t mean to, honest,” Sora said.

Shame began to eat him from the inside out.

His tears gathered again, streaking down his cheeks as sobs bubbled in his chest. He’d vomited his fears at Yozora’s feet and then pissed himself just as quickly. Tried to open himself, to bridge the confusion between them, only to follow it up by behaving like the dog Yozora accused him of being.

No, he was worse. Dogs could be housebroken and stay housebroken.

Sora needed to prove he could do better. Yozora had told him to learn, and he was going to. 

Sora dropped to his hands and knees, forearms shaking as he lowered his head. He thought back to their last encounter, what Yozora had wanted from him. It had been spelled out then and he ignored it. But he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

He licked at the toe of Yozora’s boot.

The leather was soft and broken in, the scent of the oil still strong. There was real-life dirt and Sora cleaned it away. He welcomed that it had any taste at all. Yozora’s foot stayed in place as Sora cleaned it, though Sora soon noticed a tremor to Yozora’s leg.

He didn’t look up. His own legs were shaking again and he pressed them tightly together. His body was still overrun with adrenaline, overwhelmed with painful deafness, and he couldn’t tell if he needed to pee badly again or not at all.

Kairi had been telling the truth.

Sora was hungry enough to eat leather and didn’t even need it boiled.

Something splattered on the nape of Sora’s neck as he licked, too warm to be missed. He slowed as the sensation processed, lagging long behind the act by the time he looked up in confusion. 

The gloom in Yozora’s eyes had dwindled, his hands adjusting the zipper of his pants, smoothing over it before going to fasten the button. Sora could see an easy sigh rise and fall in his chest. He looked broader now, his shoulders sloped as tension drained from them.

Whatever was on Sora’s neck dripped as he stared up.

When his hearing returned, it was to the wet sloshing of a potion being poured into his ears, followed by ragged cries Sora refused to believe could come from him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags are kicking into overdrive. Split this chapter into two since it worked better that way. The last part should be up within a week.

Sora’s room was wrong.

The dresser was where the bed had been, the desk lamp replaced with a standing one. The covers were unwrinkled, the pillows plumped and arranged neatly. The curtains hung open, bathing the room with the neon lights outside.

Sora went to the next room. His bed was back in the right place, the covers rumpled and pillows strewn about. The curtains were drawn closed, hiding him from being spotted. He locked the door and turned the desk lamp on.

The first room was wrong because it hadn’t been his.

These mistakes were coming too easy.

* * *

Sora stayed in bed for a long time, worried he’d lose it again if he got up. He lay bare under the covers after a hasty shower and even hastier hand-washing of his clothes. They hung over the back of a chair to dry now, no longer stinking of piss.

He thought about leather boots and gum and potions and bits of dirt. About the tastes he was allowed when Yozora decided to allow it.

Sora should have been mad, but he’d never had much luck in holding onto that emotion. He wanted to see the best in everyone– needed to. He’d witnessed what resentment and hostility had done to those he admired and trusted, leading them down paths that inflicted cruelty and bred more anger.

It was a dangerous cycle he didn’t trust himself to break free from, especially with no friends at his side to lend him strength.

Letting go of the sadness and fear was harder.

Fear was alive and electric, kept him alert and alive in the face of danger. The problem was it didn’t turn off, even if he was safe.

If he ever could be that.

The sadness was lead in his bones, a weight that made it hard to move, hard to fight. It washed over him at the worst times. A mindless, bumbling shadow, innocent and unaware of what was to befall it. A final blow to a great hulking behemoth, the light in its eyes already faded from an oncoming death he was expediting.

A human on the other end.

It made Sora a muted kind of queasy to conceptualize. His blade was meant for helping, not hurting. It didn’t feel right to use it against another person, regardless of the stakes. There had to be other ways to help.

Sora wished he could turn his brain off the way Yozora did for him.

What Yozora induced in him wasn’t normal. It was panic and pain that overran him until his humanity was smothered, a cleaned up bestial self appearing in its place. And Yozora guided that part of him, rewarded it as long as he learned.

It was a problem, but one Yozora fixed each time. He was good to Sora in his own right as long as it was earned.

What would things be like if Sora let that happen? If he stopped resisting it every step of the way and listened to what Yozora wanted? All it would take was to stop fighting.

* * *

Sora found Destiny Islands.

It was slapped on a wall and advertised as a travel destination. Sora sat in front of it, knees hugged to his chest as he stared. 

It didn’t exist the next time he went looking for it.

His room stopped existing as well, along with the floor it had been on. Sora tried to sleep outside in case the hotel decided to stop existing while he was inside. His brain stayed awake and kept his eyes open, sent him staring up at the skyline.

There was someone watching him. They were a dark outline above, blacker than the sky and never once moved. By the time he realized it they were gone. He went back inside to sleep in the hotel lobby.

No longer existing was preferable to whatever he’d seen, and had seen him.

* * *

Sora was sitting in a sea of gum packets when he heard Yozora whistling. He scrambled to his feet, spitting out the last piece he’d tried in a trash can outside the shop as he took off towards the source of the sound. His jaw ached from chewing too many sticks of gum in a search for one with any flavor.

He caught sight of Yozora in a neat little park, trees and benches decorating the path that wound through the greenery. He didn’t look like he was in a shooting mood.

Sora picked up the pace.

“You’re learning,” Yozora said, tossing something small to Sora as he approached.

Sora slowed on his last steps to keep from colliding with Yozora, grabbing at the object and looking down into his palm once he’d stopped. It was hard candy wrapped in foil. Sora ripped into it, popping the candy into his mouth and delighting in the burst of sugar that stuck to his tongue and teeth.

He stashed the remainder of the wrapper in his pocket for future appreciation.

“Thanks,” he remembered to say when he saw Yozora watching him.

His face was on the mollified side of neutral, close enough to pleasant that Sora wished he could admire it longer.

“Something’s wrong with this place,” Sora instead announced.

“Are you upset about the water again?”

“No,” Sora snapped. That would have required him to stop being upset about the water to begin with.

“Then what’s your issue?”

“ _Our issue_ ,” Sora clarified, “is that this place is… I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s disappearing? I think it’s disappearing.”

“Wow, crazy,” Yozora said flatly. He had to tip his chin down to look at Sora.

Sora knew he was crazy, but not for being concerned. He was crazy for running up to Yozora like this, his own guard down and with no escape route in sight. He was ultra-crazy for grabbing Yozora’s forearm, a mistake he caught in instant hindsight as Yozora stiffened.

He prayed it wasn’t an ultra-mistake not to let go.

“Come with me, okay?” Sora said, lowering his voice. “Who knows what’s watching us.”

Yozora didn’t shake him off, though he needed a certain amount of dragging to be led under the canopy of the nearest tree. Sora stared up through the branches and leaves before deciding they were satisfactorily hidden and let go of Yozora’s arm.

“Anyway, like I was saying–” Sora stopped himself as soon as he’d started, backing up as Yozora crowded him against the tree’s trunk. “Hey, a little breathing room?”

“Who knows what’s watching us,” Yozora said.

That was low, but Sora couldn’t argue.

“Just don’t strangle me or anything,” he settled on.

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

Sora waited for Yozora to laugh, to smile, to give a signal that he was joking. Yozora said nothing and did nothing. Simply stood too close, body nearly pressed to Sora’s.

He smelled sooty and sweet, like a just-blown-out birthday candle.

“I saw someone yesterday,” Sora said. He counted each time he woke as the start of a new day. “They were on a building, watching me. But it couldn’t have been you, right? You wouldn’t stand there and stare.”

Yozora was doing that now. Standing and staring.

“You’d have come and–and talked to me, or something,” Sora insisted.

Standing, staring.

The flinch Sora gave when Yozora’s hand came to rest on his side was born of the muscle-memory of pain that had lived there before.

“Easy,” Yozora said. It was the softest Sora had ever heard him speak.

Sora hated that he liked the way Yozora spoke the word. Gently, to a flighty animal.

“Sorry,” Sora murmured. “Things are going missing, or I’m losing my mind. But if it’s the first one, we have to get out of here now.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to disappear, and I don’t want you to disappear either.”

That was what had made him fast and bold, running to Yozora in spite of their previous encounters. If they could leave, things had to get better. Whatever made Yozora like this would end. This was how Sora could help him.

“Touching.”

“You should really consider taking this more seriously,” Sora said. “It has to be possible, I saw my home. I’m from some islands, you know? And it looks like they exist here somehow. So we should be able to find them, don’t you think?”

Sora scrunched up his nose when Yozora’s breath flickered against his face in the way of non-answer. He glanced to the side, barely focused on the grass around them as he tried to take in something that wasn’t Yozora. The absence of a response was not particularly surprising.

The lack of logic had been apparent to Sora’s own ears as he spoke. Sure, there was a poster that possibly existed, one that showed Destiny Islands. There was a missing step between seeing that and being there, one he had no clue how to bridge.

“What if we can’t leave?” Sora asked.

It was a question that hurt to voice, but plagued him like clockwork. There was no weight lifted by speaking it.

Yozora was still breathing down on him. It felt a little shallower, a little stressed. It didn’t comfort Sora at all.

He worried his lower lip as the doubts he’d been harboring began to crop up again in his mind. If they couldn’t leave, they could be removed. Was that like dying? Would he know if it happened? Would anyone remember him?

Who would protect his friends?

“What if we can’t leave?” Sora repeated, his anxieties moving his lips. “And we’re stuck here forever, or aren’t, or get stuck elsewhere but without each other and-”

“I can,” Yozora said.

He panted the words against Sora, oddly hitched and distracted.

Sora looked up to find Yozora’s expression had a muted quality to it, eyes glazed over and not wholly focused as they looked down at him. His lips were parted slightly as he exhaled, the sound nearly strained. It was awkward and a sort of inappropriate level of intimate that made Sora look at his feet instead.

He couldn’t look down past Yozora’s other hand.

He’d settled it on the front of his pants, palming himself through the fabric.

Sora couldn’t figure out if it was more shocking that Yozora was able to leave, or that he seemed to be touching himself in front of Sora.

“Um, you know you’re–you’re–” Sora started, stumbling over the words. He couldn’t stop staring.

“Of course I know.”

The tips of Sora’s ears went red as he nodded. Yeah. Of course Yozora knew.

The hand that Yozora rested on Sora’s side slipped down to his hip, giving it an appreciative pet before sliding between Sora’s legs. He cupped his palm against Sora, moving along the dip between Sora’s thighs before his touch turned into a severe and abrupt grip.

Sora yelped.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice half-lost amidst his shock.

“No tail tucked between your legs,” Yozora noted.

Sora had touched himself before. Not often, not for long, but in the quiet moments of the night during the rare occasion he had a room to himself. His exploration had been fumbling and confused then, a mess of starts and stops as he curiously traced the folds of his body, dared to rest the tip of a finger against a wet entrance without the resolve to push in.

He’d touched his clit once. It hadn’t been good or bad, only like too much too suddenly.

Now Yozora was touching almost all of him at once, palm rough as he jammed it up against Sora’s pussy, grabbing at him through his clothes.

He kept palming himself while he did it.

Sora braced his hands against the tree behind him as he was groped. His nails scraped against the bark as he bit back a cry, his hips twitching in response to Yozora’s touch. It felt scary, but not bad. Not painful.

Intense.

It was different from when he’d touched himself. Yozora was sure and deliberate, a rhythm apparent as he worked his hand against Sora. The expanse of his hold spread the sensation out amongst Sora’s nerves, tamed it to a point of being something he could pick apart.

He could feel the way Yozora’s fingers nearly parted his lips, the sweet friction as they dragged back and along his clit. It made him dizzy in a way pain couldn’t, gave him a discomfort he wanted to lean into and help grow.

None of it tempered Sora’s anxiety. He wasn’t sure how to hold himself, or what to do in turn. His thighs trembled as he tried to bring them together. He couldn’t tell if he was trying to stop or encourage what Yozora was doing.

Sora’s friends were his power, and without them here, he was weak. Weak enough that his fire and resilience were being extinguished, the thought of going along with what Yozora wanted in order to excuse himself from having to think anymore becoming borderline irresistible.

If he didn’t think, he didn’t plan. If he didn’t have plans, there was nothing to fail.

“Are you tighter when you’re scared?”

The question yanked Sora back to the present, made him think when he was trying so hard not to. He winced in pain-pleasure as Yozora grabbed him again, a whine stuttering on his tongue. It made it out only when Yozora let go, the spot left throbbing when his hand was gone.

“You can tell me,” Yozora said.

He sounded earnest and unguarded in his questioning, like he really wanted the answer.

Sora’s words fizzled before they formed, his gaze resettling on Yozora’s hands–both of them–working to unfasten the button of his pants, the hushed metal whisper of the zipper following afterwards. Sora averted his eyes then, stuck on some old sense of modesty despite Yozora’s blatant exhibitionism.

“I don’t know,” was all Sora could say, mortified by the question.

“Have you ever been fucked?” Yozora asked next.

Sora blanched to hear such a vulgar word. It took him back to the one time he’d said it in front of Jiminy. Reminded him of the soul-aching disappointment in his expression. He hadn’t told Sora off, his face had done that already. It was off-limits and Sora never forgot that.

“I haven’t,” Sora said.

Yozora’s cock pushed against his stomach. Sora still refused to look.

“Haven’t what?”

“Haven’t had sex,” Sora barked, hoping that would satisfy Yozora’s questions.

“That’s not what I asked,” Yozora said.

He was closer than ever, having eased nearer to the point of all but pinning Sora to the tree behind him. He was all Sora could see, too close for his eyes to focus on any part. Yozora’s breath was coming in ragged pants, hitting the top of Sora’s head.

He was stroking himself, knuckles rubbing Sora’s stomach when his cock wasn’t.

“I haven’t ever been fucked,” Sora admitted, his words mumbled against Yozora’s chest. It made them easier to say.

“I’ll fuck you,” Yozora said.

Sora went very, very still. He didn’t breathe and he didn’t blink. Was that an offer or a promise?

“I’ll fuck you and I’ll make it special.”

Sora could feel that he was wet, but not like last time.

“If you earn it,” Yozora finished.

Sora was rooted to the spot as Yozora’s hands unfastened his pants now, tugging them down his hips without bothering with the zipper. He let out a low hum of approval as Sora’s panties.

Sora wanted to say they weren’t his, that he’d grabbed a handful of them from the first shop he found with underwear after he’d thrown his old pair out after pissing them. That these were too small and cut into his sides and ass, rode up between his lips and were some sort of synthetic satin that made him sweaty.

None of it would have stopped Yozora’s from pulling at the elastic of their waistband, nudging the head of his cock in until the precum that beaded on the tip was smearing on Sora’s skin. With a few more strokes he was coming in earnest, warm cum spurting against the front of Sora’s pussy, dripping in slow trails to collect in the gusset of his panties.

It felt a lot like what had splattered on his neck the last time he saw Yozora.

When Sora was alone, he peered down into his panties to stare at the darkened spots where Yozora’s cum had gathered and seeped into the fabric. It had mixed with his own wet, the end result tacky and vaguely cloudy. Sora wondered what it would taste like, smell like.

Bad, probably.

But that was better than nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

A department store was the last place Sora expected to try jerking off. He did it anyway. 

Secluded away in the bathroom in an attempt at privacy, he bolted the stall shut as he sat on the toilet seat and leaned back. The gap at the bottom of the stall left his ankles feeling naked and exposed as he worked his hand down the front of his pants, the zipper already half-undone.

He jumped at the sound of the toilet beneath him creaking as he rubbed himself, senses on high alert as he strained above the sound to listen for the door opening.

It wasn’t the same as when Yozora did it.

Sora couldn’t get the pressure to build right, or figure out where to touch most. His thoughts jumbled with ideas of what to do, what to try. Why was Yozora so much better at this than him?

Sora wondered if Yozora had a big or small cock, and then told himself that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to help. Except thinking of either option and many in between made his hand a little unfamiliar, a little better. He pressed into a forming wet-spot along his panties, pushing the fabric up into himself enough for the friction to temper his frustration.

But none of it matched what Yozora had given him, and none of it was worth being caught with his pants down.

Sora did up his pants and unlocked the stall. The mood here wasn’t right. His hand wasn’t right. Nothing about this was good enough. Maybe Yozora would give him tips if Sora asked extra nicely and there wasn’t imminent risk of being pulverized for existing.

That would be the day.

* * *

The air wasn’t fresh or stale or anything at all, but Sora liked to imagine it would clear his head as he jogged up the stairwell marked for rooftop access. He let himself out as he came to the top, the city lights glimmering below him as he stretched his arms over his head with a sigh.

His head was not clearer for it.

He took to walking the perimeter of the roof as he digested the view, eyes bouncing from one lit billboard to another. He was afraid to study any one too long in case it disappeared in front of him. They didn’t advertise anything he was particularly familiar with anyway.

What he was unpleasantly familiar with was a dark figure that stood on the rooftop not far from his, their back to him. He could see them more clearly than the other night, recognize the black coat that covered them entirely as their head tipped back to stare at the full moon above.

Sora bristled.

_Not one of these idiot-bastards,_ Sora thought. It was a decidedly okay insult he’d adopted after overhearing Donald use it on multiple occasions. Even Jiminy couldn’t have faulted Sora in this situation.

Sora swiftly let himself back into the building. No amount of head-clearing was worth taking on one of those headaches.

Three flights down Sora heard the metal groan of the rooftop door as it was opened. 

_No, thank you._

He grabbed the next handle he found, turned, and ducked in.

Back to the department store. 

Sora slunk through the rows of clothes, folded and hanging alike as he sussed out a circular rack to hide inside. He hoped his shoes weren’t too obvious as he huddled within, keyblade quick to be summoned as he listened for indication of an approach.

It was impossible to hear anything beyond the drumming of his own heart.

Sora counted its beat in place of seconds. He struggled to number each as it pulsed, too fast for him to keep up with. His throat went dry as it galloped, shaking his vision with each surge.

It was adrenaline that pulled him back in time to notice the parting of the racks as a hand reached in to grab him. It was closer to his face than his keyblade, and he bit it hard, teeth sinking into glove as his jaw locked. He was still holding on when the hand jerked back, taking him with it.

Sora didn’t wait to see who it was before he let go of the glove and started swinging, both hands wrapped around the hilt of his keyblade as he wielded it like a bat. Two blows in and he registered silver hair. Two more blows in, that their clothes were a muted, dusky color.

No cloak.

Yozora grabbed Sora’s keyblade in one hand as he stopped the fifth blow, yanking it away as Sora’s grip went slack and his eyes widened.

Sora was on the receiving end of the sixth, seventh, and eighth blow. They began to run together then, one after another as he crumpled to the floor, blending into a single beating as he brought his arms up to cover his face from the attack.

His bones ached as his keyblade was bashed against them, his voice coming out as a ragged scream, words mixed together as he tried to explain himself and apologize at once. He choked on the pain, teeth gnashing to the point his tongue was caught between them.

The iron tang of blood was all he tasted when the blows stopped, seeping out of the corner of his mouth as he rolled over.

“Teach yourself that trick?” Yozora asked, casting Sora’s keyblade aside.

It skittered across the floor and vanished. Sora didn’t like that.

“I thought you were someone else,” Sora explained.

It took two gasps to say it. His ribs wouldn’t allow him a full breath.

Sora smelled ozone before the world tinted orange, a frequency ringing in the air as it enveloped him. He couldn’t think to cry as it shocked him.

It was worse than any strike or shot, worse than electricity. It shot through the marrow of his bones, seized him in such short convulsions he barely moved while his body bruised from the inside out. It went on until long after his eyes had rolled into the back of his head, sightless now as he lay on his back, writhing with aftershocks as the blood in his mouth mixed with lathering drool.

He turned his head to let it pool on the floor, lips parted as he breathed. His lungs were heavy with something that shouldn’t have been there. It gurgled in his throat, reminded him of the time he’d been taken out by a rip tide and inhaled seawater as he wailed for help.

There were people to rescue him then.

He hoped Yozora would rescue him now.

Sweat Sora hadn’t noticed before turned clammy on his skin, his muscles twitching intermittently without input. He saw ceiling lights first when he opened his eyes, the bulbs haloed with fluorescence. The colors were washed out and dimming. The thudding of his pulse in his ears was faint.

Dimming, like the lights.

Nearly silent now, a whisper where it had been a roar.

Dimmer.

Sora relaxed into it. How low could it be turned down?

He wasn’t allowed to stay in the dark.

Fingers slid into his mouth as he drifted. There were no yanks, no prying apart of his jaws. Only fingertips stroking the length of his tongue and rubbing along his gums. They left behind the aftertaste of a potion.

"Sora."

His name sounded so nice when it was spoken. Gentle curves and vowels, the tone beneath them coaxing.

Sora sighed around the fingers in his mouth, licking in their wake when they were withdrawn. His lips were parted in anticipation when they pushed in a second time, trickling life into his mouth. He lapped at them languidly, muscles slow and mind slower.

Things remained dim, but they were no longer getting darker.

“Sora.”

His name again, slightly louder now. He let the voice reach him, resonant and smooth. He held onto it as he continued to lick, his whine faint when the fingers were withdrawn again.

Sora mouthed lightly at the fingers the third time they were slipped in, teeth working gently to keep them still. Potion drained from their tips and into his throat, bringing the light back to his eyes as it did.

With his vision blurred to the point of double, Sora could make out the shape and colors of Yozora kneeling over him. Saw the length of his arm, the start of his glove, double turning triple when he tried too hard to look at where it led.

He could have bit at Yozora’s fingers upon realizing they were in his mouth, but he didn’t. They felt nice where they were, the edges of his nails not quite scratching as they reached the back of Sora’s throat. When the potion was gone and left nothing but the faint salt-sweat on Yozora’s skin in his mouth, Sora didn’t let go.

There had to be more, he reasoned as he bobbed his head, suckling at Yozora’s fingers as they rocked against his tongue. He whined louder when Yozora pulled them out and didn’t replace them.

“Do you want more?” Yozora asked. He sucked Sora’s saliva off his fingers after the question.

Sora licked his lips. He did want more.

“Please,” Sora started, his lungs watery but no longer drowning. “Please, more.”

“Okay,” Yozora said. “You can have more.”

He took a swig off the potion he’d been dipping his fingers into before leaning forward. Sora didn’t need prompting to accept him, mouth lax as Yozora kissed him. What he couldn’t swallow escaped past the corners of his lips, unnoticed as he licked into Yozora’s mouth desperately before Yozora was returning the kiss with crushing force.

The foggy memories of when Yozora first kissed him surfaced in his mind. Confusing and brutish, it still felt good. It excited and warmed him, made things easier as long as it was happening. He hadn’t understood back then, but he was learning now.

If he came when called, he was rewarded. When he bit the hand that fed him, he was punished. There was a logic to it all, simple enough for a dog to understand. Simple enough for Sora to understand.

Sora’s head swam as he gave into Yozora, arms shaking as they tried to reach around and bring him close. He wanted to shape himself to Yozora, fit together perfectly until he could push through. Be part of someone who wasn’t overwhelmed and try to take some of that for himself.

Yozora cradled Sora’s face between his hands as they kissed, his tongue snaking deep within Sora’s mouth. Sora sucked and slurped at it through short-lived bouts of energy, his body giving an agreeable shiver at the obscene pop that sounded in his ears when Yozora pulled away.

His head swam again when Yozora hefted him up, Sora draped over his arms like a bride. He rested his temple against Yozora’s chest as he was carried, listened to the steady thud thud thud of a heart that held no fear. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion as he was carried, scarcely able to focus on his surroundings.

The night was dark and the lights were glaring, the letters and colors that flashed on advertisements around them making little sense to his dazed mind. Yozora walked with him slowly, arms sure and strong and gait balanced to keep from jostling Sora much. Sora drank in the small kindnesses, held them close to his own heart.

He gathered himself closer to Yozora when the night sky gave way to fluorescent hallways, an elevator. A floor he couldn’t find anymore. Yozora hoisted him over his shoulder as he paused in front of the door Sora had stopped trying to seek out, letting himself in and switching the desk lamp on before offloading Sora onto a bed with rumpled covers.

“You found my room,” Sora said.

“You lost it, not me,” Yozora told him.

He carefully arranged Sora on his back, making an inconvenienced noise when Sora tried to sit up.

“Don’t.”

“My bad,” Sora said weakly, unsure of what was expected of him.

It was best if it wasn’t much. His eyelids still wouldn’t open in full, his body tired and drifting when he thought about moving. He appreciated that Yozora seemed to notice, taking the time to slide Sora’s gloves off before removing his shoes.

Yozora took his pants next, deftly unfastening their button and tugging the zipper down before he was sliding them off Sora and tossing them aside. His socks went untouched. Sora made a wordless protest that only just left his mouth, hands moving to cover his panties. They weren’t much better than the last pair Yozora had seen him in.

“Now you’re shy?” Yozora asked.

Sora focused his eyes on Yozora, taking in his state. Fully dressed, down to his shoes. Jacket on. Covered. All while Sora was being stripped down, his legs bare and set apart, panties clinging to his body and hardly able to be hidden.

“Your clothes,” Sora said. He was having difficulty explaining the problem. Brain cells weren’t aligning right.

“I’m getting to them,” Yozora said.

He pulled his gloves off and nothing else. There was a flourishing bruise on his hand where Sora had bit him.

Yozora was on top of Sora after that, hands under Sora’s shirt as he rucked it up in full, exposing Sora’s chest to him. His palms were smoother than Sora imagined they would be, warm and uncalloused as they groped and fondled, bringing short noises and squirms from Sora.

His teeth were there next, nipping at Sora, finding what made him flinch and then going over the spot with twice the enthusiasm. He left marks in his wake as he made his way down Sora’s chest and stomach, slowing when he reached Sora’s lower abdomen. Yozora hooked his finger into the side of Sora’s panties and pulled at them.

Sora pushed at Yozora’s face as he leaned in, but the strength was gone from his hands. He yelped as Yozora nosed at his folds, licking a long, wet stripe between his lips and flicking the underside of his clit.

“H-hey,” Sora said, finding his voice. “What are you-”

Yozora licked at him again, tongue following the same path before it dipped back down, the tip resting against his hole. It made Sora twitch at the slightest pressure, threatening to push in before it relented as quickly. Sora’s thighs spasmed and came together, inadvertently pressing to either side of Yozora's head and keeping his mouth in place.

The teasing made Sora whimper, the feeling of a tongue on him alien. Things were back to being scary and exciting at once, new sensations mixing with apprehensions. Sora wished something was inside him. Fingers, a tongue, a cock. Anything Yozora would allow him. 

But everything was going too fast.

This would be better if he could slow things down, ask Yozora to wait and be patient and teach him now that Sora wanted to learn.

Sora tried to voice as much but the sounds happened out of order, meaningless as they were spoken.

Yozora kept his eyes closed, turning a deaf ear to Sora’s incoherent pleading. His brows were drawn with a devoted interest as he ate Sora out, open-mouthed and greedy.

There was slick smeared along his mouth and chin when he let up, wiping the majority of it away with the back of his hand before he looked to Sora again. He didn’t ask if it was good or if Sora liked it. He didn’t ask if Sora wanted to stop, or start to begin with.

Sora wouldn’t have been able to answer if he did. Lethargy was consuming him, his body not fully recovered from the attack before and now being drained by a new assault. His thoughts were spreading, far and few with little to connect them.

Most of his attention went into breathing, ribs still sore as they rose. He forgot how to pace his inhales to exhales as Yozora peeled his panties off, leaving them to hang around one ankle before he knelt between Sora’s parted thighs. He unfastened his pants faster than he had Sora’s, fingers tripping in his haste before he was pulling himself out.

Sora stared, his previous bathroom musings solved.

Yozora was big. Concerningly so. Sora had little in his mental database of dick, but one look was enough to make his stomach hot and twisted as he wondered if it would fit in his pussy. Maybe Yozora would make it fit anyway. What if it hurt?

It had to hurt. 

“You can handle some hurt,” Yozora said.

Sora had been thinking out loud.

Sora blinked, refocusing on Yozora. The size of his cock made Sora’s already weak heart flutter with an unsteady beat. He fought to crane his neck as he watched Yozora align it with his pussy, the head shining with precum as it rested against him for a long moment.

Sora handled it not because he thought he could, but because he had no other choice.

It was a subtle sting as Yozora’s cockhead began to push in, opening Sora up with little trouble given how wet he was. But at the first sign of resistance, the slowing and friction of entering a too-small space, Yozora grabbed at Sora’s hips and anchored him in place before thrusting in.

Sora’s back arched at the sharp spike of pain, his walls forced apart to accommodate Yozora’s cock. It sank down to the hilt as Sora’s body tightened with fear, the experience new and stunning as it drew an unrecognizable sound from him.

Yozora was on top of him again, hips between Soras thighs and weight covering Sora’s body as it held him fast to the mattress. His cock nudged against something deep inside Sora, a spot that was distressingly receptive in spite of the discomfort. Sora wanted to recoil from such intimate pain, pull his mind out from the fatigued haze that paralyzed it.

“You’re hurting me,” Sora said, chest pressed to Yozora’s as he breathed. He didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s okay,” Yozora told him.

A pilot-flame of hope flared as Yozora started to pull out. It was snuffed before it formed in full as Yozora rocked back into Sora. The burn of being opened so completely made him shudder, fingers barely able to curl into the covers he lay on.

Sora nodded mutely when he could manage it. Maybe this was normal.

Emotional processing paused for Sora as his body was brutally used. His hole felt entirely pulled apart by Yozora’s cock, forcibly opened to a point it wasn’t meant to be. And yet he clamped down around it, body working of its own accord as it tried to keep Yozora close.

This was the connection he’d craved. For all the hearts he’d touched and been touched by, nothing had this physicality. There was comfort tucked into the pain, proof that he wasn’t alone anymore.

With his consciousness ebbing, Sora indexed what was happening to him in a distant way. Flat on his back in the safety of his own bed and with his legs spread widely, he was having sex. No–that wasn’t it. Yozora was fucking him, entitlement radiating from him as he did so.

“Is this special?” Sora asked. He had no experience to compare it to.

“It is,” Yozora assured him.

Sora cherished that even as he trembled. His body was beginning to fit Yozora better, his hole stretched to the shape it needed to be, forcibly taught to take in cock. He didn’t feel Yozora cum, but he knew it was happening.

Pressed hard against Sora, Yozora went still, fitted together as perfectly as the two of them could be. He stayed like that as the seconds passed, going soft inside Sora before pulling out. The immediate trickle of cum was warm.

Sora had no composure to recover as he began to leak onto the covers, eyes no longer able to stay open. For once his mind was truly quiet, thoughts washed away now that he had given in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything to add here aside from thank you for coming along for the ride.


End file.
